Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 12

by Stalker

  She nodded. “Yeah. I checked.”

  “Well, you didn’t empty the gun,” Webster said. “Shows you were in control. That’s good. Did you check the perp for vital signs?”

  “Checked the jugular and the brachial artery. I couldn’t detect any pulse…not unless you count his aorta gushing like a fountain. It was a straight-on chest shot. I mean…look at me!”

  Webster did. Her clothing was a mass of red inkblots.

  “I kept trying to plug him up while I talked to 911.” She was talking as much to herself as to Tom. “I don’t remember the conversation, but it’s recorded on tape.”

  “Did you move the body?”

  “From where he landed, I moved it enough to check the wounds and check for vitals. That’s when I got blasted. I kept my face out of the way, and my hands don’t have any open cuts. Hopefully, I’m okay…just pray that the bastard didn’t have AIDS.” Her heavy sigh held back the tears. “God, it was awful! I kept stuffing the hole in his chest with his shirt…to try to stop the bleeding. I knew it was a waste of time. He was a goner on impact.”

  “But you can say you tried.”

  “Yeah, that’s certainly true. The ambulance must have come about a minute later…they saw me working on him.”

  “Piece of cake. You’re gonna be just fine. Just sit back and compose yourself.”

  “That’s a tall order.” She shook her head. “Every time I close my eyes, I see this red river charge toward me. Fresh blood is really warm…hot. I’m still sticky from him! It’s horrible!”

  “Can I do anything for you?”

  “Just find out about the stiff. Maybe his identity will break the jackings. The way he did it was identical to the Farin Henley case…right down to the Volvo station wagon.”

  “That would be a hoot. You breaking your own case. Course, it would have helped a mite if you hadn’t killed the guy.”

  “I’m going to ignore that.” Then Marge burst into laughter—at odds with her wet eyes.

  Decker vaulted over the crime tape. Before Rina could protest, he grabbed her shoulders and squeezed her tightly. She was determined not to cry, but she did leak a few tears.

  “Do you need a doctor?” Decker asked.

  “A shrink would help.”

  “That can be arranged.” Decker held her at arm’s length, then drew her back into his chest. “Where’s Hannah?”

  “Across…” Rina cleared her throat. “She’s with Vega in the park. See her? She’s sliding down that twisty thing?”

  Decker looked. Little orange curls bounced as Hannah’s body whooshed down the turns of the metal apparatus. How close she came to being a statistic…

  “Poor thing must be starved,” Rina said.

  “Lieutenant—”

  “Not now!” Decker barked.

  The officer retreated. Decker took a deep breath and let it out. “I called your parents—”

  “Peter, why on earth did you—”

  “Because it was better to hear it from me than from the TV news.” Decker mopped up a sweaty brow with a handkerchief. “We’re both going to be occupied for a while. I figured they could watch Hannah—”

  “I don’t want her involved! She didn’t see anything, she doesn’t even know what went on.”

  “I know. That’s why I need your folks. We’ll get her out of here as fast as we can. Ordinarily, I’d ask Cindy, but she’s in no shape to do anything right now.”

  “Poor Peter,” Rina said. “You must be a nervous wreck!”

  “Poor me? Poor you! It’s amazing you’re still standing on two feet.” Decker ran his hand over his face. “This sure puts things in perspective. Makes you just want to…kiss the day!”

  “I’ve been thanking God nonstop.” Rina’s lower lip began to tremble. “Peter, what do I tell Hannah? She thinks I’m mad at her for jumping on the backseat. I know I should go over there and say something, but I’m so nervous, I don’t know what to do!”

  Decker lessened his grip on his wife. “Give me a few minutes to get things squared away and I’ll take care of her. Has anyone taken your statement?”

  “Some officer tried to ask me questions, but Marge shooed him away.”

  Decker nodded, pulling away from his wife to analyze the scene. There were around a dozen uniformed officers doing traffic and crowd control. The coroner’s wagon had arrived, the attendants waiting for the police photographer to finish up so they could take the body away. But before they did, the OIS team would examine the body for entrance and exit wounds, giving Marge the physical evidence she needed to exonerate her actions. Also, Martinez was there, waiting to go through the pockets of the victim for ID.

  Marge was with Oliver, speaking with her hands as well as her mouth. Decker called out his name. Scott turned around, gave Marge’s shoulder a final pat, then jogged up to the tape, stepping over the barrier with careful, deliberate movements. His limbs felt numb from a poor night’s sleep.

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Decker,” Oliver said. “Do you need a doctor or anything?”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  Decker said, “Take a statement from her. When you’re done, I’ll drive her home—”

  “I can drive, Peter.”

  “First off, the Volvo stays here for a while. Secondly, I wouldn’t dream of letting you drive after what happened.”

  “So after I’m done, I can take Hannah and Vega with me and go home?”

  Decker nodded.

  “So why did you call my parents?”

  “Just in case you need to rest. Wouldn’t hurt for you to have a little help.”

  “Then you’ll tell Marge that I have Vega?”

  “Yes. Vega might have to make a statement herself. I’ll see what I can do about that.” He wagged a finger at Oliver. “You take good care of her.”

  “Of course.”

  Decker evaluated his detective. Oliver looked worn to the bone. “Have someone with you to verify her statement. Report back to me, then go home and get some real sleep. Sleep…as in your own bed.”

  Oliver ignored the sarcasm and pulled out a notepad. “I’ll do that. Someone should look after Detective Dunn until the shooting team gets here. She’s a bit nervous.”

  Decker regarded Marge, who was pacing in tiny circles. “I’ll go over there.” He kissed Rina’s cheek, then brushed his lips against hers. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  But Decker was reluctant to leave. He forced out a weak smile, then backed away. He realized he looked ludicrous, so he turned and walked over to his former partner. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I think I owe you some thanks.”

  “Hell, I’m just so grateful it worked out. Hopefully, the shooting team will see it that way.” Marge bit her thumbnail. “When’s Hodges getting here?”

  “He’s on his way.”

  “Is he going to interview me?”

  “I don’t know how they’ve worked out the division of labor. They’ll take you back to the stationhouse for the statement.” Decker put his arm around her. “You’re not going to have any problems with this, Margie. No one’s going to try to trip you up. Just take it slow and you’ll be fine.”

  She nodded.

  Decker said, “You want to show me where you were standing?”

  She took him to the exact spot. There were still bits of dog excrement clinging to the blades of grass. “I was kneeling here, cleaning my shoes…” Marge crouched down to reenact the scene. “Vega tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up…saw Rina.”

  Decker knelt beside her. From this position, he had a good view of the driver’s side of the Volvo. “Then what?”

  “I stood up…got my gun out. I started running over…” She squinted. “I remember a few people were in the line of fire, I told them to get back, get back—”

  “Are they still here?”

  “Yeah, Webster’s talking to one of them right now. That older fat guy with the gray ponytail in the blue workout suit.”

 
Decker gave the man a once-over. “Go on.”

  Walking several yards, she suddenly stopped behind the thick trunk of a eucalyptus tree spewing the scent of menthol. “I took cover right…here. See? There’s my footprint and my knee print.”

  “You were kneeling.”

  “Absolutely. Better control. From the position, I had a clean view. Rina had dropped down to the ground—”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her. But it was a brilliant move. It gave me a clear shot at the perp. I identified myself. The perp turned toward me, his weapon pointed in my direction. I opened fire.”

  “Three rounds.”

  “Yeah. Tom told you?”

  “Tom told me. Did you call for backup before you opened fire?”

  “Afterward. I couldn’t handle the phone and my gun at the same time. And based on the present situation coupled with the past history of the ongoing jackings, I assessed that immediate action was necessary. There wasn’t enough time to wait for help.”

  Decker looked around, across the expanse of park area. “If he shot at you, the bullets could be anywhere.”

  “I’ve thought about that.”

  “I’m sure you have.” Decker looked at his feet, then squatted down to examine the ground about him. He put up markers next to Marge’s footprints. Then he examined the tree trunk. Starting at the bottom, Decker’s eyes started walking up the dips and folds of the shaggy bark. Around twenty inches off the ground, he stopped and stared.

  “Look here. Something nicked off the bark. See, we have a nice radial, half-moon pattern. This looks like a bullet graze. Martinez will bag the hands just as soon as the photographer’s gone. We’re going to find residue. I’m sure he shot at you.”

  “So that’s good. Be better if we had the bullet.”

  “We’ll search the park. But even so, you’re all right. The nick should help the shooting team with their angles and trajectories.” He marked the spot with a piece of tape. “Guy was a good aim. You’re lucky.”

  “Hodges is here,” Marge announced.

  Decker stood up. “Rina’s making a statement now. After she’s done, she’ll take Hannah and Vega to our house. Depending on what Hodges and the others want, we may have to talk to Vega.”

  “I know.”

  “But maybe not.” Decker waved the detective over. Hodges, like all members of the OIS team, was from Robbery/Homicide. He was a good detective—analytical—and a decent fellow. He was still muscular in his build, but had grown soft around the middle. A man with a face filled with character—graying hair, gray eyes, and lots of facial crags and creases. In his early fifties, he was two and a half years off his twenty-five-year pension.

  “Lieutenant,” Hodges said.

  “Are you doing the interviewing or the analyzing?”

  “Arness and Renquist are on their way down.” Hodges turned to Marge. “Renquist will take you down to the stationhouse. He’ll take a statement from you. How’re you feeling?”

  Marge nodded nervously. “I’m all right.”

  “Good.” Hodges shifted on his feet. “I’ll wait for Arness. You looked like you were looking for something, Loo. Kneeling down and all. Find anything?”

  “Just what I marked off with tape. Here on the tree and Detective Dunn’s prints on the grass. How long do you think the analysis is going to take?”

  “Usual.”

  “Three…four hours?”

  “About.”

  “Scott’s getting a statement from my wife. Then I’d like to take her home. So I’ll be gone about a half hour…maybe forty-five minutes.”

  “I’m real sorry about your wife. What a bitch of a thing to happen.”

  “She’s all right. That’s all that matters.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Loo?” Martinez ran across the street and stopped in front of the trio. “Hey, Ross, how’s the curve ball coming?”

  “We’re a shoo-in against Van Nuys, Bertie. Parks twisted his ankle on a skiing trip. The Department won’t let him pitch. Threatened him with suspension if he did. He isn’t going to risk it being three years from pension.” Hodges turned to Decker. “When are you gonna join the team, Loo? Bet you’ve belted your fair share out of the park.”

  “See the size of my strike zone?” Decker remarked. “Besides, I was slow when I was young, I’m even slower now.”

  “That’s the whole point of the over-forty league, sir,” Hodges stated.

  “As tempting as it sounds, I’ll still pass.”

  “There’s Renquist.” Hodges waved him over, then turned to Marge. “You’ll be fine. Just take it slow. Good luck.”

  “I’m all right,” Marge said. And for the first time, she almost meant it. She had saved Rina’s life: that made her a hero. And the guys were acting so nice and normal. Maybe things would actually be all right.

  Decker said, “Did you have something, Bert?”

  “Yeah. Right!” Martinez suddenly remembered why he was there. “I went through the pockets of the perp.”

  Hodges said, “Did you move the bod—”

  “No, I didn’t move the body—”

  “Screw up the angles—”

  “I didn’t move the body!”

  “I moved the body,” Marge said.

  “Don’t say anything yet,” Hodges said. “Wait for Renquist.”

  “What’d you find, Bert?”

  “Okay. His driver’s license says he’s Luk-Duc Penn, twenty-five, five six, one-thirty. No green card, so maybe he’s legal. He lives…lived in Oxnard.” Martinez gave Decker the exact address. “We’re spending all this time on looking at similars in L.A. and the guy lives out of town. From this area, all he has to do is take the 101 North and within thirty, forty minutes, he’s in another jurisdiction. Wide-open spaces between here and Oxnard. You can get to the backfields without using conventional routes.”

  “Oxnard’s mainly Hispanic,” Marge said.

  “It’s mainly migrant,” Martinez said. “Because of all the agriculture, it’s a magnet for anyone poor and illiterate. Look at the recent influx of Southeast Asians in SoCal. They compete with the Central American migrants for jobs and probably compete in the crime market as well. If we start hunting up north, I’m sure we’ll find chop shops.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Decker said. “Let’s contact the Oxnard PD and a judge up there, and grab ourselves a couple of warrants.”

  30

  Having been a recent crime statistic herself, Cindy felt genuine empathy about what had happened to Rina and Hannah. Her immediate reaction wasn’t just emotional, but physical, being overcome with that terrible sensation of momentary light-headedness. But her father had assured her that they were fine, whatever that meant, because how could anyone be fine after such an ordeal. Dad had also been quick to tell her that Hannah hadn’t seen anything. And that the carjacker had been shot dead by Marge. Cindy’s immediate reaction was relief. Rina wouldn’t have to go through a trial, and they could honestly tell Hannah that the bad man was gone for good.

  Then, after she had hung up the phone and thought about what had occurred, she sank under the enormous burden of being forced to take a life. The incident roiled up questions in Cindy’s mind. Could she shoot to kill? At this point, she felt that she could. Yet, when someone had shot at her and Crayton, she had ducked behind a car, frozen with fear.

  Heart beating wildly, she had an immediate impulse to fly over the freeway and see that her sister and Rina were indeed fine. But things were a mess right now.

  Why don’t you check up on us in about an hour? her father had said. Then he had added, I’m still thinking about you. Are you okay?

  I’m fine, Daddy. Really. Everything here is almost back to normal. She hesitated. Actually, I can’t help but wonder why all this garbage is happening to us.

  Her dad had laughed, but it was without mirth. I know that no one is without problems. So, I guess it’s our turn. I just hope that if I’m taking s
ome kind of big life test, I’ve passed the damn thing already.

  I’m really sorry, Dad. Are you okay?

  My family’s fine, I’m fine. He paused. I love you, princess. Please be careful. Ease your old man’s psychic pain and, at the very least, keep in touch.

  I will, Dad. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of myself.

  She felt horrible for him. But there was this tiny, tiny upside. She finally had time to herself. With Dad occupied with the latest developments, he couldn’t dwell on her. That went for Marge and Oliver, too. The freedom gave her space to think…to analyze.

  She picked up the morning coffeepot and began to wash it. Her thoughts drifted back to last night with Scott. It had all happened so fast and furiously that she wondered if it had happened at all. The whole thing was made even more surreal because she had woken up and found him gone. (Although the couch was covered with rumpled bedding, so she knew he had slept there. And there was the minimal note—Call you later.) And when he had phoned her, it had only been to tell her that he had been with her father, but now they both had to leave because of what had happened at the park.

  She dried the carafe and put it back into the machine.

  A really weird night, but infinitely better than the night before. She didn’t remember the sex too well—her mind had truly been elsewhere—but she did recall the discussion about Bederman, about how Scott had said that partners don’t usually break up and still remain best friends. It made her curious about Graham and about Rick Bederman, since his behavior last night had been odd, talking against Hayley like that. It made Cindy wonder if there hadn’t been another reason for Bederman wanting out of the partnership.

  To get the transfer, Rick would have had to put down his request in writing. Ergo, the department would have a written record of the request in Bederman’s file. If she could just get hold of the file, she’d find out the ostensible reason behind the transfer. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  But there were problems. Files not only were confidential, but were kept downtown in Parker Center. Access to the folders was just about impossible without the proper paperwork, and the personnel department was shut down on weekends, the room probably locked up tight. Maybe there was a civilian skeleton crew kept on to man other necessary offices, but that was about it. Going downtown was out.